Perhaps it is because of the pending hurricane or perhaps because I always secretly feel this way but I very much desire to be in another time tonight. I haven't quite figured out what time this is but I picture it with gentle breezes blowing my long white dress, holding a mint julep and gazing at the sunset. Daisy would be my name. Maybe I know exactly what time this is, maybe.

I am forever discontent in where I am, in who I am and, most recently, in the time I exist.

Ch-ch-changes

A New Leaf, Chicago

A lot has been happening around these parts. Along with all that is wedding nonsense (and truthfully, I do find it to be a bit nonsensical at times), I've been promoted at work and have received my LSAT score. In one year I will know which law school I'll be at, Jon and I will be almost married and we will be packing up to move to who knows where. No more New York though, this we could not handle.

Less than three weeks after becoming engaged we realized how crazy weddings are. Having called a few event spaces in Chicago, we quickly realized how quickly these things book so we flew to Chicago on a whim and booked our wonderful florist adjacent space, A New Leaf. It is lofty and perfect, very low key. This past weekend my mother flew up here for a quick peek at wedding dresses. Just so happened there was an Ian Stuart trunk show and an Ian Stuart vintage lace dress I fell in love with. Done and done.

At this point I'm already weddinged out. I have a beautfiul dress and location and, most importantly, the best fiance a woman could ask for. This is all I need, yes? No, no no. There are invitations, cakes, caterers (mac 'n cheese bar anyone?), DJs, florists, lanters....etc. Phew. I am more than happy to pass these tasks off to my very excitable mother and focus instead on law school applications.

I do wish it were truly spring. No more five minute snow showers and icy breezes. Where are the cherry blossoms, the warm sunshine, the possibility of picnics? Oh well, with all this crazy planning for life who has time to be outside anyway.

I am happy.

One Thing

As of this past Valentine's Day, I will be marrying this wonderful man next April. And to think only three years ago we were planning his move to New York! Neither of us is terribly romantic but I am ridiculously excited to be marrying this fellow. There will be twinkle lights galore and loads of white flowers and of course Jon lookin' snazzy in a tux. Happy, happy, happy!

Home

Of all the places I have called home, of all the places I have visited for months, or weeks, or days, Chicago is my city. With all my heart I cannot wait to start our family there. New York has been many things but never home. That word I save for Chicago

Monday Jon and I will spend our fourth Valentine's Day together in this lovely city. I have arranged a Polish day for him at my grandmother's in order to make up for my shoddy dumplings on Christmas Eve. I never feel more Polish than I do when in Chicago which makes sense as it has the second largest Polish population outside Warsaw. Happy, happy, happy.

I hope everyone has a wonderful lovey Valentine's Day!

Lust

There are words I'd like to write but am too distracted by the windows shaking from the wind. There is a blizzard in the Midwest, my darling Midwest, and warm, spring rain here. I'm missing Chicago, wishing I could afford to visit for a few days around Christmas. Alas, adulthood will not permit this.

A very close friend of mine has just become engaged and while I'm very happy for her it is an odd feeling. Most of Jon's friends are married, have children, are getting divorced or what have you and most of mine are still figuring out their lives. But I suppose we are all growing up, slowly, but surely. It is that forever feeling of being stalled where I am; waiting for real life to begin, to start law school and a family. Though if I stop to think about it, I already have a little family. Jon, Keats and I. Small, but happy. I'm not sure if this is adulthood or pretending but for right now I am content.

Will it be

It is Saturday night and I sit here rewatching a show that I was too young to understand the first time around. It involves a creek. I say no more.

Having officially entered 9 to 5 hood this week, I welcome doing little. The morning was spent sipping coffee with Jon, finding more nonfiction on the American Revolution--my new favorite obsession-- and buying a tiny bunch of wildflowers from the farmers market. Keats discovered he is able to jump on the kitchen counter which is not at all surprising but rather disheartening as it was the last place to put any valuable object he might get his paws on. Alas, he is unstopable.

The new job is something I have not made my mind up about yet but it doesn't exactly look promising. We will see. My mantra is 18 months. 18 months and then we will be far, far away. Waiting and waiting.

Peppermint

Washington, D.C.

It is deeply gloomy outside and while normally I like nothing better than this sort of weather with coffee and a good book, today it only matches my mood. There are so many things that have become uncertain and I fear that my sounding board, Jon, has become tired of my verbal hand wringing. I've never been very good at friendships. For whatever reason I can never seem to hang on to close friends. And while the people I've met in the city have been lovely, for the most part, I wouldn't say any are true close friends. The kind you can call up anytime and have over for coffee, do nothing but talk and be comfortable in one anther's presence. I'm more than lucky to have found my wonderful companion but, sometimes just sometimes, I ache for the sort of conversations you can only have with a best girl friend.

I've been burying myself in studying and books. About France in WWII, the American Revolution, love letters of poets. I'm searching for that feeling of being so overwhelmed with a text that you cannot see beyond the page. It has been too long since I've felt that. And the days are long. Long and seemingly endless yet somehow they bleed into one another with the weather as the only demarcation of time. The yearning for elsewhere is so strong that it causes me to lose my breath. I feel so unattached, like I may float away. That might be nice.